Diane: I am so tired tonight. I can't wait to get home and take a nice hot bath.
Frasier: What? Little Miss Popularity has a free evening? Don't tell me you've been through all the men in Boston.
Diane: Oh, really, Frasier.
Woody: I heard you used to be a psychiatrist, Dr. Crane.
Frasier: Yes, I once belonged to that ridiculous profession where pompous intellectuals get together and discuss the illusion that there's something they can do to alter the human situation and deny that man is condemned to a life of bitterness and despair.
Woody: Yeah, but you got your weekends off.

Diane: I'm talking about something as easy as, say, depression.
Sam: Depression?
Diane: Yes. The symptoms are loss of appetite, inability to sleep, loss of sex drive.
Sam: Whoa. Loss of sex drive, like in not wanting to have any sex? Forget it. No, no, no. I don't like to lie about things like that.
Diane: Oh, Sam, why not?
Sam: Well, when I was a kid, I used to make goofy faces. My mom used to say, "Don't do that. It may stay that way." I'm not doing anything goofy with my sex life.

Woody: It's quick, it's simple, and you don't have to send away for one of those kits or anything.
Carla: What kits?
Woody: You know, like the coyote does in the Road Runner cartoons. By the way, now, I always wondered, if he can afford to buy those kits to catch the Road Runner, why can't he afford to buy something to eat?
Cliff: Woody, I think you're missing the point here. It's not that Wile E. Coyote wants to eat, necessarily, or that he wants to eat a roadrunner. What he wants is to eat that particular roadrunner. It's very existential.
Diane: We're trying to save a man's life here.
Norm: Yeah, Cliff, really. Besides, I have to disagree with you, you know. You never see the coyote eat anything else. Think about it. You never really see him eat anything at all, which could be why he's missing the damn bird all the time, you know. The brain needs sugar. Think about it. You gotta clamp...
Carla: Yeah, yeah, yeah. But did you guys ever see the one where there were two roadrunners?
Sam: Two roadrunners?

Diane: Frasier, you were once a brilliant psychiatrist. We couldn't bear standing by, seeing you throw it all away.
Frasier: So this is what it's come to. You were practicing deceit to get my confidence back. You took pity on me. You, of all people. Two of the most pitiful people I know.
Sam: Hey, hey, hey, hey. She's a lot more pitiful than I am.
Diane: Sam.
Frasier: You're both pitiful. I'm pitiful. We're, all three, a pitiful manage a boobs. Well, this boob is moving on. You know, you two may not have the courage to face it, but I finally do. Sam and Diane, you are now and have always been, hopelessly in, I guess the word for it is "love." And unfortunately for you, like it or not, you always will be. [Sam and Diane try to interject] I know! I know! Now you're gonna deny it. Even though it's ludicrously obvious to everyone around you, you two will go on pretending it's not true because you're emotional infants! You're in a living hell. You love each other and you hate each other. And you hate yourselves for loving each other. Well, my dear friends, I want no part of it. It's time I just picked up my life where I left off. It's time to put Humpty-Dumpty back together again. So I'll get out of here now so you can just get on with your denial fest.

Sam: Now the story. Okay, we went out for Chinese, told each other you know what, and then we went back to my place and tore one off.
Diane: Good lord.
Sam: What?
Diane: Well, Frasier knows I would never be seduced by such a pedestrian approach.
Sam: Hey, who said anything about walking?

Diane: Tell him you were so filled with passion that you pushed the plates aside and grabbed my hand.
Sam: "Filled with passion."
Diane: Then you say what you brought me up there to tell me.
Sam: Oh, yeah, yeah. [mumbles] "l love you."
Diane: Well, Sam, I think you can enhance it a bit. Like, "l love you, Diane. I've always loved you, and I always will, till the day I die. No, not even the grave will diminish my love. Only... Only make its flame burn brighter."
Sam: Whatever.

Norm: [enters] Evening, everybody.
All: Norm!
Woody: What can I do for you, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Elope with my wife. What do you think, huh?

Cliff: Hey, Norm.
Norm: Hey, Cliffie.
Cliff: Pretend we're having a normal conversation, huh?
Norm: With you?
Cliff: Party. My house. Saturday. Twelve noon sharp. You're invited.
Norm: A party at noon?
Cliff: Ssh. Keep it under your hat, will you? You're the only one in the bar I invited. I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings.
Norm: Hurt mine.
Cliff: Norm, Norm, Norm. Look, we're gonna have plenty of beer, cold cuts galore, a big bucket of slaw. Oh, you're gonna love it. And we're gonna maybe do a little painting.
Norm: Painting?
Cliff: Well, just the attic. That's not the point. You know, I'm inviting a lot of the guys from the post office. It'll be a great time.

Cliff: Hey, what's the problem here, Norm?
Norm: You know I hate to paint. You know that.
Cliff: Yeah, so who doesn't? But, hey, with all these guys around there, it'll take no time at all.
Norm: Oh, all right. But don't tell Vera, all right? She'd get upset. I haven't finished painting our house yet.
Cliff: Oh, how far have you gotten?
Norm: Oh, I bought the little hat.

Sam: Poor Frasier. Lost his job, and all he's got working for him is a drinking problem.
Woody: Well, you know, we ought to help Dr Crane. I mean, we're his friends. Somebody ought to give him a good talking to.
Diane: Don't you think I've done that? You can't imagine how long and how hard I've talked.
All: Oh, yes, we can.